


Tiffit the Ewok Jedi

by Rebelwerewolf



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Cameos, Ewoks, Friendship, Gen, Jedi Code, Jedi Training, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 10:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6851563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebelwerewolf/pseuds/Rebelwerewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Born and raised on a New Republic planet after the fall of the Empire, Tiffit the Ewok faces bullying at school for being different. His life changes when his Force abilities awaken, and he trains to become a Jedi. He even makes a friend in the process!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiffit the Ewok Jedi

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a fic for [Self-Insert Week 2016](http://that-vicious-vixen.tumblr.com/post/142608476206/self-insert-week-2016). The main character Tiffit deals with some issues I had while growing up, but ultimately, he is way cooler than me.
> 
> Thank you to my spouse for editing!

_Emotion, yet peace._

“Move it, furball!”

Tiffit scampers out of the way, carefully averting his eyes from his classmate, a towheaded human child who already stands head and shoulders taller than him. Though he is still young and doesn’t understand why they pick on him, he has learned to avoid his larger classmates.

The teachers are no help. “Kids will be kids,” they say. “You should grow some thicker fur. Stop being so concerned about what other people say.”

His parents are no help either. “I don’t see what’s so bad about being called a furball. We are Ewoks. We _do_ have fur,” says Tiffit’s father.

Tiffit huffs and crosses his arms. “You don’t understand. You grew up on Endor, where everyone was an Ewok. I just want to be normal.”

“Oh honey,” croons Tiffit’s mother, enveloping him in a tight hug and stroking his cinnamon fur. “You are an Ewok, and you should always be proud of that.”

“Our people were instrumental in destroying the second Death Star,” adds Tiffit’s father.

It’s not that Tiffit doesn’t want to be an Ewok. He just wants the other kids in his class to stop picking on him because he’s smaller than them or because he’s covered from head to toe in dense, shaggy fur. Most of all, he wants a friend.

The bullying doesn’t stop. One classmate sticks a wad of chewstim in his fur, and large chunks of it have to be chopped off. Another wears a coat made of synthfur and brags about having skinned an Ewok.

“Let’s see if blue and red make purple,” a kid mocks, knocking Tiffit’s blue milk off the lunch table and into his lap.

Tiffit is wet and sticky and entirely sick of being picked on. “Get away from me!” he shrieks. He stands and, without thinking, without using his hands or feet, knocks the bully down using a blast of energy. A hush falls over the lunchroom, and when a teacher walks toward Tiffit, he’s sure that he’s in huge trouble.

Instead, he’s sent home for a few days, and his parents treat him kindly but whisper behind his back. Then he’s introduced to a man named Master Skywalker, whom he immediately likes. His light brown hair is streaked with grey, and his drab robe and bushy beard make him look almost like an Ewok. He also isn’t quite as tall as the other non-Ewoks.

“She knocked my milk over,” protests Tiffit, expecting a stern lecture. “The other kids are always so mean to me.”

“I know. What they are doing is wrong,” says Master Skywalker. This comes as a shock to Tiffit. No one had ever validated his experiences before. “But you are very powerful, so you have to be the bigger person.”

Tiffit is confused. “But I’m not powerful or big.”

Master Skywalker chuckles. “A wise Jedi once told me that size matters not. Being the bigger person is about forgiveness and letting go. That is the only way to find peace.”

_Ignorance, yet knowledge._

With his parents’ permission, Tiffit leaves with Master Skywalker that day. Master Skywalker runs a school for children like him, he’s told, children who have a special ability to use the Force.

Tiffit is introduced to the other students: Scida, an energetic human boy who seems to be the leader of the younglings; Yasier, a puffy-haired human girl wearing spectacles; Sontha, a Mon Calamari girl who tries very hard to look at the ground; Chithek, a burly Trandoshan girl; and Ben, a sad-eyed human boy with big ears. Tiffit says hi but keeps his distance; in his experience, kids are always cruel.

Jedi school is completely different from Tiffit’s old school. Each day starts and ends with a group meditation, which Tiffit is terrible at. He can never manage to keep his mind from wandering, then his body starts to feel numb, and then he can’t control himself anymore and has to get up and move around.

This day Tiffit decides that, since he isn’t getting any meditating done anyway, he might as well do something else. Master Skywalker doesn’t open his eyes when Tiffit leaves, but he knows the old Jedi is keeping watch. He shoves away the feeling of guilt.

The school grounds are just a few buildings in a forest clearing next to a stream, so it’s a short walk to the tree line. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Tiffit launches himself upward, into the branches that spread like a canopy. He swings from them, jumping from tree to giant tree in exhilaration, and his mind is far more at ease than it ever is during mediation. He can feel the air around him buzzing with the energy of all the living beings that surround him.

Tiffit zones in on one particular energy signature that stands out from the wildlife and the foliage and begins to follow it subconsciously. He’s closed his eyes; he doesn’t need vision when he can sense the trees. Suddenly, he’s there at the beacon he has been tracking. He opens his eyes to see that he has approached a sharp-faced drop. He also sees Ben. More accurately, he sees Ben perched on the very edge of the cliff in a meditative pose. Tiffit stares but does not speak, not wanting to startle the other youngling into falling.

It is Ben who breaks the silence, speaking without turning to face Tiffit. “What are you doing here?”

Tiffit could ask him the same question. He has noticed that, more often than not, Ben was absent from their group mediation sessions. Instead, he replies, “I’m no good at meditating, so I went for a climb.”

At this statement, Ben stands and turns to face his diminutive classmate. Despite his goofy ears, Ben’s face looks very serious. “You’re good at meditating. I could feel you in the Force earlier.”

Tiffit is confused. “I wasn’t meditating. I was just –“ Realization floods him. The massive amount of life energy he felt while he was climbing – that was the Force. He was communing with the Force, meditating. What he couldn’t do while sitting motionless in a circle with the other younglings, he did effortlessly while swinging through the trees.

As kids often do, Tiffit and Ben cultivate a close friendship based on being different from the others.

_Passion, yet serenity._

As teenagers, the two friends often hang out on Naboo during Jedi school breaks. Ben’s mother, Senator Leia Organa, has a lakeside cabin on the planet, and Ben frequently begs her to let him invite Tiffit. It gets awfully lonely for a kid whose parents are always away attending formal state meetings and fancy banquets.

“You have to pick your battles,” says Ben to Tiffit. “If I fought everything I hated…” He trails off with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“You _do_ fight everything you hate,” Tiffit accuses. “And this is different. They’re _eating_ my people!” He waves his holocom, which is showing an image of a smiling human holding up a piece of processed meat. The words “Power Sliders Ewok Jerky” are displayed in large block lettering.

“Fair point,” Ben concedes with a little shrug. “But what can you do? Power Sliders is a huge corporation.”

A fire burns in Tiffit’s eyes. “We fight.”

Ben looks confused for a second. Surely his pacifist friend isn’t suggesting violence. “I thought you were all about the Jedi code.“

“Not that kind of fighting. I mean this.” Tiffit holds up his holocom again. “I’m going to set up a protest in front of Power Sliders corporate headquarters.”

Tiffit doesn’t know what to expect when he shows up at his protest holding a homemade sign that says “I am not food.” There’s a small group that beckons him over. A tall, bearded human male wielding a megaphone leads the group in chants. He offers to let Tiffit make a speech, but Tiffit’s nerves are getting the best of him, and he declines.

Unsurprisingly, Ben isn’t there. His mother, ever the politician, would certainly have deemed it a bad career move for her son to be seen at a protest.

More surprising is the number of counter-protestors gathered defensively around Power Sliders’ corporate building. They hold signs with sayings like “I’ll eat what I want” and “Go back to Endor.” Some of them are holding rocks and bats.

Someone wearing a mask tosses a brick through the fancy transparisteel front windows and all hell breaks loose. The rabble-rouser jogs toward Tiffit and lifts the mask. “Kriffing hell, Ben!” Tiffit curses. “You just stirred up a huge mynock’s nest!”

Ben just grins. “You wanted a fight. I’m getting you one.”

A fight indeed breaks out, and Tiffit’s small protest group, unarmed and outnumbered, wisely chooses to flee. Ben, who is less wise, starts toward the fray. Tiffit grabs his arm and hauls him back, despite Ben easily weighing twice as much. “No,” Tiffit hisses. “What do you think will happen if we fight?”

“We’ll win,” states Ben matter-of-factly. “We’re two Jedi up against some guys with sticks.”

“Exactly,” says Tiffit. “We’re Jedi, and we need to act like it. Now follow my lead, and no matter what happens, don’t fight back.”

The next day’s holojournals run an image of a gangly, teenaged human and a tiny, red-furred Ewok standing unscathed inside a Force barrier while an angry mob attempts to pelt them with rocks. The headlines are variants of “Jedi take a stand against Ewok Jerky” and “Leia Organa’s son defends Ewok rights.”

The day after that, Power Sliders announce that they will discontinue Ewok Jerky.

_Chaos, yet harmony._

It’s the middle of the night, but Tiffit’s world is as bright and hot as the surface of a sun. He’s the first to awaken as the acrid smell of smoke fills the small hut that he shares with the other Padawans. “Get up! There’s a fire!” he shouts as he rushes toward the closest bed and shakes the inhabitant awake.

It’s Scida, who makes a sleepy attempt at swatting Tiffit’s hand away. Tiffit grabs the other boy’s arm with both hands and yanks him completely off the bed. “What the h –“  Scida starts to say, but then he sees the flames that have already engulfed the wall where the door once was, and he falls silent.

The others are all awake now, and panic sets in as the group cowers against the far wall. “We’re trapped!” cries Sontha. Tiffit notices that her eyes are bloodshot, and she seems to be having trouble breathing. Mon Calamari and fire never mix well.

“We can get out of here,” Tiffit says. He doesn’t know if he’s reassuring himself or the others, but he doesn’t have a plan. They could cut a hole through the wall easily enough, but their lightsabers are in the training hall. Chithek, he has noticed, is clawing and pounding at the wall behind them, exposing the plaster and brick construction.

The front wall collapses with a groan and a thud that Tiffit finds surprisingly quiet. The night air tries to rush in, but all it does is feed the flames, which grow ever taller. Tiffit comes up with a plan, but he’s not sure he can convince the others of its merits. “We need to go through the fire.”

Scida looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “We just have to use the Force,” Tiffit continues.

“That’s not how the Force works!” protests Scida. He looks so scared and young with the glow from the fire dancing across his face that Tiffit can hardly recognize him.

“That’s exactly how the Force works.” Tiffit finds a well of confidence somewhere inside himself as he explains his plan. They need to walk in a cluster, hold their breaths, and push all the air away from them. Scida looks like he disagrees, but in the absence of both time and a better plan, the group is willing to try.

Standing in a circle with their backs to each other, the Padawans form a void around themselves where the fire cannot reach. A ceiling support beam falls toward them, but it’s effortlessly repelled by the Force bubble. Tiffit’s spirits are lifted by the realization that, despite the destruction surrounding them, or perhaps because of it, the group is working together better than they ever have before.

Once they’re standing a safe distance from the burning building, Yasier speaks up for the first time since their unceremonious awakening. “Where’s Ben?”

_Death, yet the Force._

Tiffit notices several things at once. One, all the buildings are on fire. Two, there are figures near the training hall, clearly illuminated in the firelight. Three, Ben isn’t with them, and he hasn’t been with them since before Tiffit woke. He chooses to process his thoughts in order.

“The younglings might be trapped,” he says to no one, as Scida has already resumed his role as de facto group leader and is rushing toward the training hall with the others close behind. Tiffit snarls in frustration and sets off in the opposite direction, toward the hut where the younglings sleep.

The younglings’ hut is in worse shape than the Padawans’ was. The walls are an inferno, and Tiffit chooses to Force jump into the building through the giant hole where the roof used to be. There are small bodies strewn about the floor. Tiffit tries not to think the word “bodies” as he sees them, but it’s no use. The younglings lie unmoving, some of them beneath still-burning debris.

One by one, he moves them out of the building, using the Force to lift rubble off their bodies, and Force jumping through the roof. It takes several minutes or several hours; he loses track of time. He curses his short limbs – if he’d had Ben or Chithek’s long arms, he could grab two kids at once. As it is, some of the younglings are actually taller than him.

Tiffit struggles to remember whether chest compressions are the correct way to deal with smoke inhalation and whether there is a different method that should be used on children, but time is against him, and emergency medical aid was never a focus at Jedi school. With the smoke from the nearby fires still burning in his lungs, he beats on their little chests and exhales into their little mouths, but there are no responses.

Finally, he remembers that he can use the Force to check whether the younglings are still alive. Two of them are. The other three have slipped away, their conscious minds absorbed into the Force. Tiffit feels hot tears staining his fur and fights his rising anger. Who could have done such a thing? They were just children.

He focuses his attention on one of the survivors, a Rodian boy whose breathing is too shallow to detect. Closing his eyes, Tiffit assumes a near-meditative state with his hand on the boy’s forehead and tries to soothe his spirit, pleading with it to remain in its vessel. Suddenly the boy sits straight up and gasps for air. In that moment, Tiffit thinks it is the sweetest sound he has ever heard.

He turns toward the other surviving youngling, a human girl with her hair in buns, and recognizes her as Ben’s younger cousin Rey. Behind him comes a sound so horrifying it is beyond imagination – a high-pitched scream followed by silence. The boy he has just saved falls before a dark-robed figure. Tiffit senses his life energy ebb into the Force. He stands and faces his taller opponent.

The person before him wields a red lightsaber that crackles with unstable energy. Tiffit wishes again that his own weapon was not in the training hall, but there is no time for that. He grits his sharp teeth and reminds himself that his ancestors were able to hunt much larger prey with spears and arrows. If he can gain some distance on his attacker and find something to throw, he can win this fight. If he can make it all the way to the tree line, he can certainly run away. Tiffit glances down at Rey’s tiny, limp body and makes the decision to hold his ground.

Dodging the red lightsaber is not difficult. Tiffit is low to the ground, and his muscles, combined with the Force, easily propel him upward and sideways as needed. The robed figure has a long reach, though, and Tiffit realizes he’ll need a weapon if he wants to fight back. He scans the ground and finds only charred wood. It will have to do.

The first hit he lands is across his opponent’s wide back. The wood breaks harmlessly, and his opponent barely seems to notice. He grabs a new piece of rubble and aims for his opponent’s knee. Tiffit sees them stumble slightly, then catch their balance. Though panting from exertion, he smiles. The plan, then, is to aim low.

Tiffit needs all the debris he can get to use as weaponry, so the two combatants slowly back toward the still-burning hut where the younglings once bunked. As he hefts a particularly sturdy crossbeam and advances on his attacker, Tiffit notices Rey shift on the ground. His opponent follows his gaze and turns to face the helpless girl, raising their lightsaber high over their head in preparation for a downward thrust.

Without thinking, Tiffit rushes in to parry the blow, forgetting momentarily that a wooden beam, no matter how sturdy, is no match for a lightsaber. The swing comes in diagonally, slicing easily through both the crossbeam and the Ewok holding it.

As Tiffit falls to the ground with a scream of agony, he can see the face of his attacker. It’s Ben. His eyes are completely black, inhuman. His face is twisted in rage.

When Tiffit collapses, Ben’s face undergoes a complete transformation. “T- Tiffit?” His eyes return to their original honey brown, his mouth gapes open, and a sob escapes his parted lips. He retracts his lightsaber, and it drops to the ground with a quiet thump as Ben moves to lift the small, limp body of his friend.

“Ben…” Tiffit’s voice is barely audible over the sounds of fighting, screaming, and crashing that drift in from across the schoolyard. He tries to draw a breath, but it is ragged, and he coughs blood that splatters across Ben’s pale skin.

“Tiffit, I’m so, so, sorry,” Ben wails, pressing his face into his fallen friend’s fur. “I didn’t… It wasn’t… I couldn’t fight him any longer.”

“Save…” Only the ghost of a word escapes Tiffit’s mouth as his breaths grow shallower. His eyelids droop closed, and he looks almost peaceful despite missing an arm and a large portion of his torso.

Ben knows that Tiffit does not have long, but he can’t bring himself to say this to his dying friend. A friend whose death was entirely by his own doing. “I’ve got you. You’ll be okay.” He hopes that he’s managed to make the lie sound comforting.

Tiffit shakes his head emphatically, mustering all the strength left in his body. His eyes fly open, and he fixes Ben with a serious stare. The last word out of his mouth can be heard clearly above the din. “Rey.”

_Epilogue_

A decade later, Snoke assigns Kylo Ren to the Finalizer. Upon meeting General Hux for the first time, he lets out a gasp which can be heard through the vocalizer of his helmet. The young general turns his head and stares at Kylo expectantly.

“Your hair,” Kylo mumbles. “It’s… red.”

Hux sneers and remarks drily, “How observant. A man of your skills will be of great use to the First Order.”

Kylo Ren decides then and there that he hates this horrible man who dares to have hair the same shade of red as Tiffit’s soft fur.


End file.
